


Sonata-Allegro

by kiseraeota



Series: string players and their heartstrings [1]
Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: 96 liners - Freeform, M/M, Mild Swearing, Soonhoon if you squint, but it's really just schumann's suicide attempt im so sorry, how do i say canon divergence with real people, mention of suicide, orchestra AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-27
Updated: 2020-09-27
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:01:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26681065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiseraeota/pseuds/kiseraeota
Summary: And may I remind you that the Sonata-Allegro form entails that whatever this will be is bound to end just as the development resolves to the Recapulation.—In which they are part of an orchestra and constantly spew out music jokes amidst their little reunion.
Relationships: Jeon Wonwoo/Wen Jun Hui | Jun
Series: string players and their heartstrings [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1944130
Comments: 4
Kudos: 59





	Sonata-Allegro

For Wen Junhui, welcoming ceremonies are to be treated as the abstract to what a research paper should be like, and yet all that enters his mind is “ _Damn you, Kwon Soonyoung!_ ”

Wen Junhui stands there, in the middle of the lounge, bright red carbon fibre case still weighing down his back as he blinks at the group of musicians who had momentarily put down their rosin to stare at him.

“Oh?” Jihoon almost smirks.

“Yeah.” Junhui smiles. “I’m back.”

Soonyoung smiles, taking Junhui’s cello from him, placing it at the corner with the rest of their instruments. “Good to see you’re back.” He chuckles.

Junhui feigns a pained look. “How could you smile after leaving me at the dorm to drive here by myself.” He places a hand on his heart. “I’m deeply wounded, Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung merely chuckles. “No you aren’t—you’re excited to be here.”

“That, I cannot refute.”

And just then, Junhui feels the airconditioner humming its usual B-flat note blowing at the back of his head. It comes as a shock—the presence filling the room as easily as water pouring. It’s the typical violinist pride and pedestal they put themselves on top of, but around seven times stronger.

 _Ah, yes._ Junhui fights a smile, yet acknowledges the presence he’s oh so familiar with. _Him_.

“So, did you finally meet a violinist better than me?” Typical Jeon Wonwoo—teasing him as soon as they step inside the same room.

“As if.” Junhui scoffs. “You know you’re the only one for me.” And just as he always had, he indulges in Wonwoo’s little whims because _who_ could ever fight Wonwoo?

Wonwoo put down the cup of water he’s drinking, walking closer to Junhui. “Ever such a flirt.”

“Ever such a _tease_ , Jeon.” Junhui retorts. “You never changed.”

“In two months? You really hate me that much?”

There’s so much to say to Jeon Wonwoo and Lee Jihoon, but all that flows in Junhui’s brain are the thoughts of missing them and the laughable amount of jitters he’s getting.

He’s itching to start playing with them once more.

Junhui had always known that he steers closer to the Expressionism factors of the music he listens to, and even more so when he plays. He vaguely remembers Jihoon telling him it’s because he can play the notes as easily as he breathes, but that’s really just the one side of the phenomenon of music making.

He almost hits Joshua a few times, but they both manage to laugh it off. “It was boring without you.” Joshua nudges with the tip of his bow. “No one else hits me with their bow as forcefully as you do.”

“Shut up.” Junhui fakes a pout. “I’m not that aggressive.”

Jeonghan coughs from in front of them. “Yes you are.”

“I am not!” Junhui protests.

“ _Cellos_.” And yet another thing Junhui missed—the regularly scheduled snarky calling out by the usually gentle and bubbly Jeon Wonwoo. And, from how the woodwinds react, it probably _has_ been a while since the section had been called out.

Soonyoung appears from beside Junhui, violin in hand, leaning against Junhui’s chair. “I missed hearing that.” He laughs.

Junhui looks up. “Who’s concertmaster today?” His question gathers the attention within hearing range (or as large as a hearing range of a whisper could be).

He recalls how Soonyoung and Wonwoo, an overly expressive violinist and another borderline emotionless, lead the orchestra as the best violinists of their generation—oftentimes switching whoever gets the first chair depending on which games they lose or win.

Seungkwan looks behind. “Yeah, we have to choose who plays principal viola too.” He motions between himself and Chan from the seat behind.

Soonyoung shrugs. “It’s Wonwoo today.”

“But weren’t _you_ the first chair when we were practicing?” Joshua chimes up.

“Soonyoung are you staying there or what?!” Wonwoo calls for his seatmate, biting his lips. “We’re about to start. That goes for _all_ of you.”

Junhui had been to different countries and places and yet he’s glad that at least when he comes back home, there’s going to be at least _one_ person who doesn’t change and stays constant.

As the orchestra’s given a short break, a restroom break for the strings and a half-hour break for the winds and brasses, Jihoon stays behind, cleaning his oboe as he watches the strings get yelled at for the umpteenth time that afternoon alone.

Seungcheol breaks a string, Wonwoo breaks a nerve.

Or almost does.

Until Soonyoung touches his elbow and looks straight ahead, reminding Wonwoo that he has something to stay grounded with—there’s something to keep him calm.

Although a soul heartless enough to point anger out at Choi Seungcheol probably doesn’t exist anywhere in the world, Wonwoo is on edge, and everyone feels it.

The conductor tells them to take a breather—get some water, wash their faces, just anything to cool their heads down. “How the _heck_ do you expect to play a serenade when you’re all so stiff?”

And with that, they’re dismissed.

For a few minutes.

Before Wonwoo himself could stand, Junhui’s already on his feet, standing beside him. “What’s got you all shaken?” Junhui asks, blocking Wonwoo’s way. Junhui notices. His eyes immediately see the way Wonwoo puts his hands under his legs. And Junhui almost hates himself for even forgetting.

Junhui sighs, taking off his cotton jacket. “You know, you shouldn’t forget things like this.”

Wonwoo looks down, accepting the piece of clothing being handed to him by the cellist. “Of course, you won’t always be here for me.”

He stands up. “Thank you, Junnie.”

Junhui’s mind weighs down the different scenarios that could possibly happen if he follows their concertmaster backstage. However, he does not.

Soonyoung places his violin down in its case, stretching up and jumping down to the seats of the first row to meet Jihoon with a bottle of water in his hand. “You know,” Soonyoung yawns, “it always amazes me how you two managed to stay in good terms.”

Almost immediately, Jihoon pushes Soonyoung lightly. “Imprudent little fucker.” He teases. “You’ve always been amazed with anything.”

Soonyoung gleams. “But, _babe_ , you amaze me he most.”

“Disgusting.”

They’re given a few minutes to call back the winds and brasses from wherever. Junhui’s tired, and yet he retains the adrenaline pumping. It’s always a thrill to experience the chemical experience of reacting with other musicians.

It puts a smile on his face despite the growing fatigue.

Junhui breathes in the cold air that hits his arms.

And he plays.

He plays the familiar tune—a melody he’s so used to hearing. The melody he played endlessly in studios, the hallways, empty classrooms, at home, everywhere and anywhere. It’s the melody his body is so used to playing.

He feels his chest constrict as the violin joins in at the second phrase.

Junhui’s reluctance pulls him momentarily from opening his eyes to see who’s playing the octave higher of the piece. And yet, he knows. There’s no need for him to check for whoever makes the sound his entire body is reacting to.

And so they play. The hall’s acoustics bounce of nothing but their breathing, the sounds of fingers tapping on wood and steel, and the harmonies of the second movement of Brahms’s Double Concerto for Violin and Cello. They play the piece they presented in front of the nation. Their instruments resound around the large national theatre just as they did months back (although, Junhui’s almost certain both of them are playing from the audience’s seats).

They need not open their eyes—this is a piece they both memorize by their muscle memory first and foremost, and by their hearts.

Junhui pauses, opening his eyes to see Wonwoo from the top of the stage, directly in front of him, playing the violin part as flawlessly as when they had won the gold medal for the collaborative music category.

He smiles up at the concertmaster and plays his part.

There’s a lot of things that can change, even pieces modulate. Junhui may have bought a new cello, and Wonwoo may have been using Soonyoung’s Stradivarius copy instead of his own Guarneri original, but Soonyoung’s smile as he passes behind Wonwoo just proves that there truly is something that isn’t normal with how Wonwoo and Junhui stay in good terms.

The world had changed, Junhui and Wonwoo had broken up, and yet their hearts still play in the same rhythm, the same harmonious relationship—the only thing that remains constant in this world.

Break times with the orchestra immediately translates to coffee time with their little group of friends, sneaking away from the rest of their little group who would voluntarily invite themselves.

No, the four of them agreed that this time, it’s going to be just the four of them at twelve midnight, basking under the low light of the coffee shop across the street from the theatre, their instruments sitting at their own table next to theirs.

Jihoon and Junhui stay behind after saying that Wonwoo and Soonyoung could order basically anything for the two of them.

“How was Vienna?” Jihoon asks Junhui. “You weren’t as active as Minghao.”

Junhui shrugs. “Minghao had the time of his life with the little prodigy.” He replies. “It’s a great experience really, even if it’s just for a semester.”

“There’s so much to learn, huh?”

“I learned more about myself too, to be honest.” Junhui admits. “I’ve always worn my heart on my sleeve, I didn’t realize it affected my playing that much.”

Jihoon stares at him, feeling his fidgeting feet from under the round table. “It’s admirable, really. Both you and Soonyoung play with so much... _feelings_.”

Soonyoung places a tray in front of them , saying, “I heard my name. You two weren’t talking shit about me, right?”

Wonwoo slides down to sit next to Junhui, hot coffee in hand. Junhui feels his presence—Wonwoo is _close_ to him. He stays silent, opting to look out the window next to their space.

“I was asking Junnie how he experienced Vienna.” Jihoon continues his ment, swirling the straw in his mouth. “It really must be nice being able to study there and even _buy_ a new cello.”

Soonyoung’s eyes glisten as he hears of the purchase. “I’ve been meaning to ask—what’s the brand of that one? Wasn’t your Stradivarius copy alright?”

“It’s a Guarneri original.” Junhui feels Wonwoo’s breath hitch, but doesn’t say anything. “I had to sell the other one to get even _close_ to half the price of this one. Man, the things I do for the love of music.”

Wonwoo opens his mouth.

But he ends up saying nothing.

“It’s been a while, huh?” Wonwoo smiles, the humidity of the sea fogging up his glasses.

Junhui nods.

They sit together on the balcony of the cafe overlooking the sea beside it, glistening under the past-midnight stars and moon. They sit apart, further away than they were from inside the cafe.

Wonwoo stares at the twinkling of the stars being reflected onto the soft waves, breathing not as often—eyes glazed over as how he used to be whenever he delved deeper and deeper into his thoughts or nothing at all.

“Care to share?” Junhui asks, keeping his eyes on his phone.

“Huh?” Wonwoo hums. “Nothing much.” The silence rolls across them as the waves crash on the shore soft but rhythmically. “What did you learn over at Vienna?”

Junhui chuckles. “That music is intentionally made by humans in order to express themselves as a form of art.”

Wonwoo pouts. “Didn’t we learn that back in our second year of college?” He asks. “Kania wasn’t a pain in the ass to study for nothing.”

“Exactly.”

Wonwoo breathes, blinking away thoughts. “I missed you.” He whispers, hoping Junhui doesn’t hear.

But he does.

“Jeon Wonwoo...” Junhui sighs, recalling how they had put an end to their relationship when Wonwoo decided he had enough of snapping at Junhui for every little thing—and those little things were... things like vibrato too wide.

Junhui reaches for his airpods, handing one to Wonwoo. Surprisingly (not really), Wonwoo accepts this. Junhui plays his favourite—Schumann’s Cello Concerto.

“This part,” Junhui whispers the story Wonwoo had heard probably hundreds of times already, “the cello duet, that’s him trying to communicate with his wife after he lived through his first attempt.”

“The most romantic part of the piece.” Wonwoo smiles. One ear hears the continuous waves and the occasional passing cars, and the other religiously indulging Junhui’s wish to let him listen to his favourite piece once again. “As rockyas their relationship had been, they still found their home with each other.”

Junhui chuckles. “What a romantic way to describe an unhealthy couple.”

Wonwoo nudges him. “Don’t say it like I have no feelings.” He catches Junhui’s unbelieving look and laughs. “Okay don’t say anything anymore.”

Junhui laughs. “I was saying _nothing_! How rude!”

And when Junhui finally looks over at Wonwoo, he almost forgets why he went to Vienna in the first place—he almost forgets how the gentle concertmaster in front of him asked him to leave his sight and just accept the offer that was supposed to be for both of them.

He almost forgets how he told Jeon Wonwoo that they weren’t growing as musicians by limiting their feelings for each other. “I’m sorry.”

Wonwoo smiles, a smile so gentle, so _familiar_. “There’s nothing to apologize for, sweetheart.” He reassures Junhui.

“It’s been a while since I heard that.” Junhui laughs softly, thumb rubbing his knuckles. “Have you been improving?”

Wonwoo pouts, squinting. “And let our parting be in vain? As if.”

Junhui nods. Wonwoo’s, of course, right. And it’s not that Junhui was keeping tabs, but the news of Wonwoo winning the solo string category of the national string competition, thus deeming him the best violinist of their generation nationwide, it’s pretty hard to miss that kind of news. “I’m glad. I’m so proud of you, Wonwoo—you’ve certainly reached the stars.”

“Oh?” Wonwoo cocks his head to one side. “But I haven’t, my dear Moon Junhwi.”

Junhui fights the antigravitational forces asking for the sides of his mouth to smile upwards. “What makes you say that, Jeon Wonwoo?”

“I’m saying we’ve grown.” Wonwoo answers. “I was reaching for the stars, but along the way, I realized that I’d rather go to the moon.”

As uncalled for as Wonwoo’s unprovoked metaphorical flirting, Junhui chokes on his coffee. “Incredibly corny and ridiculous.” He scoffs. “Just _what_ exactly do you mean?”

Wonwoo laughs, a smile so bright his nose gathers up the muscles of his face. “I want to play more advanced harmonies with you. Not that there’s anything that could top Brahms Double, but I refuse to believe that’s the limit of our musical bond.”

“Strictly musical?” Junhui questions.

“No way.”

“I figured.” He admits. “So, we’re back to the introduction, huh?”

“May I remind you that _you_ broke up with me.” Wonwoo jokes, clutching at the sleeves of Junhui’s oversized jacket. “The exposition repeats before we get to the development.”

“And may _I_ remind you that the Sonata-Allegro form entails that whatever this will be is bound to end just as the development resolves to the Recapulation.” Junhui retorts jokingly.

“Then let’s not end this piece.” Wonwoo suggests. “I’ll cut the last section out.”

“Okay, let’s see how far into this Sonata called love we can get through, sweetheart.” Junhui doesn’t know why he agrees—yet he also has no reason not to. Perhaps expositions were truly meant to be repeated to achieve the best development.

**_Fine._ **

**Author's Note:**

> created on a whim really. personally, i like my minwon fic more haha. talk to me on twitter @jjeonwon or @miyukjs !!


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